Blind Date
by Devour
Summary: When House finds Wilson carrying a hideously ugly item of clothing on his person, he is determined to once again stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Oneshot.


**Author's note: **This was written in response to a challenge posted for round two of the LiveJournal community Wilson Fest. The original prompt was - 'Wilson goes on a blind date with House.'

* * *

"What is _that_?" 

House's eyes were wide as he gazed at the object on the ground before him. He'd even removed the lollipop from his mouth, shifting in an attempt to acquire a better view.

"Nothing!" The response was rushed as Wilson hastily ducked down to retrieve the object. Rising awkwardly, he stuffed it into his pocket before turning to meet House's inquisitive gaze. Anticipating the inquiries that would surely follow, Wilson glanced around his friend's office nervously. "Won't Chase be back with the results of the biopsy soon? It should've been completed fifteen minutes ago."

"Like hell it was!" Staring at his apparently squirming friend, House repressed the urge to laugh at the horrible attempt at deflection. "Come on, hand it over."

"It was nothing!" Wilson's insistence was suspiciously defensive, and it did nothing to reduce his friend's curiosity.

"Give it here, or I'll show everyone that photo from a few Halloweens ago when you dressed up in princess garb."

Glaring at his friend, Wilson considered the threat before reluctantly reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fluoro pink bowtie. House plucked it out of his friend's grasp and turned it over in his hands.

"Another gift from one of your patients?"

Wilson looked away, refusing to respond.

"Must be a precious patient if you're keeping it so close to you. Not sleeping with another cancer chick, are we?"

"House!" Wilson's voice was a hiss as he glanced warily around the room to see if any passersby had heard the comment. Sighing, he gave in. "It's not from a patient."

"Well in that case, whoever you're shopping for must have quite an eclectic taste in bowties. Or you just have bad taste in gifts. Judging from personal experience, I'd say it's the latter."

A glare was cast across the room. "It's not for anyone else either."

House smirked. Wilson was far too easy to bait sometimes. Musing aloud, he continued. "Well if it's not from a patient - and no one else would give you something so ridiculous - and it's not for someone else, you must be intending to wear it yourself."

Wilson tightened his lips, but didn't deny the assertion.

"The only reason you'd wear something that disgusting is to stand out in a crowd." The words tumbled out of House's mouth as he followed through with the line of reasoning in his mind. The uncomfortable stance that Wilson had assumed - hand rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding House's gaze - told him that he was coming close to the correct conclusion.

"The only reason you'd want to stand out in a crowd is if you're trying to help someone to recognise you. Like a new business partner, or a pen pal, or-"

House stopped as the realisation hit him.

"-a blind date."

There was a pause as Wilson seemed to freeze at this statement. It took a few seconds for his senses to return to him, and when he opened his mouth, his speech was stumbled as his mind sought to catch up to his protesting lips.

"No! I - look, House... just give it back!" Wilson snatched at the bowtie, but wasn't fast enough to beat House, who draped it over the tip of his cane and dangled it in the opposite direction.

"Oh boy. You are!" The smirk that twitched House's lips was tinged with incredulity. "Even _I_ didn't have you pegged as that desperate!"

At that proclamation, Wilson ceased in his attempts to retrieve his bowtie in order to glare at his friend accusingly.

"I am _not_ desperate!"

"Right." House's tone was biting as he rolled his eyes. "A dinner date with someone you found on an online dating service doesn't seem desperate at all."

"I didn't find her on a dating site!" Wilson's statement was accompanied with a scowl.

Raised eyebrows followed. "You met in one of those sleazy chat rooms that pedophiles hang out in?"

"Don't assume everyone meets women in the same way that you do, House."

"You haven't _met_ her at all." House looked at Wilson meaningfully, waiting for him to elaborate. Sighing at the probing expression and realising that it was futile to resist, Wilson knew he had to cave.

"She's a friend of one of the nurses in Oncology."

"Oh, right, well that clears it up. Getting a nurse to play matchmaker is _so_ not desperate. A janitor, on the other hand - well, that would be a different story."

Now that that one mystery had been solved, it was time to move onto another. Tossing the bowtie back to Wilson with a deft flick of his cane, House considered his next question. "So if you're wearing this ridiculous thing, what's she going to be wearing?"

Stuffing the small pink object back into his pocket, Wilson eyed House with suspicion. "Why do you care?"

"Just wondering if she's your equal in the subtlety department."

"She's not wearing anything."

"Really? Nothing? Well, _that's_ certainly going to be noticeable."

House paused, waiting for a response. When no further explanation appeared to be forthcoming, he chose to continue with another prompt. "It's not some kind of weird hat, is it?"

"That's right, she's coming in one of those jester's hats."

"With the bells?"

Wilson nodded.

"Seriously?"

"No."

"How about a Santa's hat then?"

"House!" Wilson's tone was loud and obviously frustrated. "Would you just give it a rest?"

"I'll shut up about it if you tell me what she'll be identifiable by."

Not trusting House's word, but recognising that the argument was going nowhere, Wilson gave in. "A pink rose, in her hair. Happy now?"

"No." House smirked as he once again got his answer. "Unoriginal, is she? Where are you two going?"

Wilson shot a glare in House's direction. "You said-"

"I said I'd stop asking about what she'd be wearing, not your destination."

Wilson sighed as his friend refused to let up. "You know, you really need to get some. Maybe that would stop you from obsessing over _my_ love life."

"I'm not obsessed. It's interesting."

"Whatever you say." Patting his pocket to ensure that House hadn't somehow stolen his bowtie once more, Wilson got up to leave. "Page me when you get the results of the biopsy."

"Hey, you're not leaving till you answer my question!"

The flashing glare that House cast in his friend's direction was lost on Wilson's back. The oncologist didn't even pause as he pushed the door open to leave. "And if you were in a position to stop me from leaving, that threat might mean something."

The door swung shut on a more-than-slightly disgruntled House. He resolved to keep a close eye on Wilson for the rest of the day.

-----

The restaurant was warm and cosy inside; brightly lit with a vibrant atmosphere.

House snorted as he limped inside. It was just so typical of Wilson to choose such a boring restaurant for his first dinner with a blind date.

The object of House's thoughts was spotted instantly by his keen eyes. He was sitting by the window at a table for two, reading a menu. House wondered if he'd chosen that seat so as to be able to keep a close eye on the door, or in order to give the people entering a better view of his glaringly pink bowtie.

Limping towards the table, House decided that the latter was more likely.

As he approached, Wilson glanced up, as if sensing something was amiss. When he saw House, his face crumpled into one of annoyance.

"What are you doing here?"

The very words which were on Wilson's mind came out of House's mouth before the oncologist had even opened his lips. His tone was conversational, but his usually serious blue eyes almost seemed to twinkle with mischief.

"Oh, you know, the usual." Wilson kept a straight face as he cast an exaggeratingly airy glance around the restaurant. "Waiting for my date to arrive, and _wondering why my best friend is stalking me_. How about you?"

Choosing to ignore the latter half of this response, House dropped himself into the second chair at the table and leaned forward in a conspirational manner.

"Something tells me that she won't be coming tonight. I get the feeling that you should prepare to be stood up."

Wilson blinked rapidly a few times. "What are you-"

His eyes narrowed at the knowing stare that House was giving him. It was an expression that Wilson had seen many times and knew very well to be wary of - it said, 'I'm up to something involving you that's none of my business.'

"House. What've you done this time?"

"Me? Nothing." Prompted by the pointed glare that Wilson shot across the table, he continued. "But... hypothetically speaking, it's possible that someone may have caught a woman with a pink rose in her hair when she was at the door and had a few words with her."

Wilson gritted his teeth. "And what would this purely hypothetical being have said to her?"

"I'm thinking that it could have something to do with her date for the evening having gonorrhea."

An expression that was equal parts horrified and mortified slid over Wilson's face.

"Oh no, wait." House stroked his chin with a finger, as if in thought. "Maybe it was herpes. I forget the details."

"You did _not_ tell my date that I have a sexually transmitted disease!"

"Exactly - _I_ didn't. That's what I've been saying all along!"

Wilson cast an furious glance across the table, causing House to sigh. "What gave me away? Would you still have thought it was me if I said genital warts instead?"

"House. This isn't funny. Do you know how long it took me to get reservations here?"

House rolled his eyes. "I knew that if you left without paying for someone's meal, you'd be all pissy the next morning, so I came with a backup plan."

Wilson's curiosity won over his irritation. "Oh please, do enlighten us all with your genius plan. If your last one was anything to go by, this one will surely be a master stroke."

Choosing to ignore the deadpan tone of delivery, House fumbled through his pocket and pulled out a pink rose, before reaching up to tuck it behind his ear. Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Now that I'm your date, you can pay for me."

"What? There's no way-"

"Sure there is. You just have to choose to believe that this matchmaking nurse of yours set you up on a blind date with me."

"You've never spoken to Sue in your life!"

House creased his brow, frowning. "You're obviously not counting telepathic communication. Isn't that a bit close-minded of you?"

"House." Wilson glared across the table.

House sighed. "Look. You can either go home and sulk for a couple of hours because I ruined your fabulous date, or you can stay here, pay for dinner, and afterwards we can go back to my place and watch crappy late night TV."

Wilson paused to consider his options. It was only a few seconds before he tossed his menu to House and waved a waiter over to the table.

"On one condition - I get the remote."

House grinned, settling into his chair. "I think we can arrange that."


End file.
